


Drift

by storiesfortravellers



Category: Leverage
Genre: Boat, Childhood Memories, Huck Finn, Literature, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 23:04:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1835467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesfortravellers/pseuds/storiesfortravellers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this prompt at comment-fic on lj: Leverage, Eliot/Quinn, Huck Finn was their favourite</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drift

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for characters who romanticize a book dealing with slavery.

Eliot and Quinn lay side by side, shoulders pressed up against each other in the tiny fishing boat. Quinn had called in his favor, and after a successful job in a small turbulent nation, they were fleeing the country by paying a local fisherman to row them down the river, as they lay flat to avoid being seen by anyone from shore.

They were on their backs, staring up at the night sky, clouds not quite covering the bright full moon. The smell of trees, thick with recent rain, surrounded them as they felt the gentle current of the river underneath the thin wood at their backs.

"Like Huck Finn on the raft," Quinn whispered to him with a smile.

"This ain't the Mississippi," Eliot whispered back. 

"Don't tell me you never thought about what it would be like, to raft down the river, free of the arsehole grown-ups in your life. Especially since you're an American southern boy. That's halfway to Huck Finn anyway."

"I don't know about that," Eliot chuckled. "But yeah, every kid reads the book at school, thinks about running away."

Quinn looked back up at the sky, the stars. "My mother read the book to me."

Eliot turned. Childhood was spoken of in vague terms, at least by men like them. "Yeah?"

Quinn nodded, and was quiet.

"My dad had a copy of the book on the shelf," Eliot said then, a gentle volley back. "But I never asked if he read it. We didn't talk about things like that."

"Yeah," Quinn said, understanding.

They were both silent for a while.

"When I got older," Quinn said eventually, "I realized the book was about more than what I thought it was."

"I know what you mean," Eliot said. "It's about freedom. And about the ugliest side of human nature."

"And about how following orders isn't always the right thing to do."

"Yeah."

They were quiet again. 

Quinn broke the silence again. "It's a nice night. Clear."

"Sure is."

Quinn nestled a little closer, leaned his head to rest on Eliot's shoulder. Eliot pulled closer too.


End file.
